Blackout
by Hot elf
Summary: Phryne has returned to Melbourne and Jack is happy to have her back. But who will make the first move? A thunderstorm provides just the catalyst the two of them need.


Phryne has never been more beautiful, and Jack simply can't take his eyes off her.

Outside, a storm is raging. Not an ordinary storm, but a proper tempest, the kind that makes you think the world is coming to an end, here and now. Rain is pouring down in thick sheets, and lightning is painting intricate lattice patterns against the background of the midnight blue sky. The noise of the thunder is deafening. Jack has no doubt that all over the city, children are clinging to their mothers for safety, and dogs and cats are cowering in corners and whimpering.

Now, Phryne… Phryne is a whole different kind of animal. There she is, at the wide opened window, breathing in the electric air and revelling in the fury of the storm. In the soft light of the lamp, he can clearly see her expression, her eyes sparkling with delight, a smile of reckless abandon playing around her lips. The wind has tousled her carefully coiffed hair, but she clearly couldn't care less. This is wild Phryne, feral Phryne, a creature of untamed chaos, and this is her element. The thought makes his throat tighten, for what would a being like her ever want with him, plain old Detective Inspector Robinson, who has devoted his life to the upkeep of law and order?

Is this why she's kept her distance? He'd thought everything would be easy, now that she's returned from England. It had all seemed crystal clear on the day of her departure, when she'd run into his arms and kissed him. He'd wait for her, and once she was back, they'd be together, no more games, no more doubts.

And now it's been 54 days since her return, and they still haven't kissed again. Heck, they haven't even really had time to talk. It's all been a flurry of visits and polite conversations, and discussions of his current case, a violent double murder down at the docks, in one of Lin Chung's silk storehouses.

It's true, Jack has missed her at work, too, her clear-eyed, dispassionate way of looking at he facts and sorting them out until they yield the truth. But outside of work, he doesn't want her clear-headed. He wants her passion, her zest for life. He wants all of her. Jack can't recall ever having _wanted_ anyone as much as he wants Phryne. He wants her so much that his whole body aches with it. He wants her to throw reason to the wind and make love to him, finally, because he's waited for so long, he's been superhumanly patient, and he's at the end of his tether.

Has she changed her mind about him, now that she's back? Has she decided he's too staid, too boring for her after all? Or is she still scared of committing, worried that he'll make her give up her freedom, that he'll attempt to tie her down? Jack has no idea what to make of her behaviour, but then, that's always been part of her appeal. Still, he wonders why-

Another huge thunderclap, and the soft music coming from the radio is cut off. At the same moment, the lights go out, leaving them in complete and total darkness, until a flash of lightning sears his eyes, almost blinding him. Jack curses under his breath, but at the same time he hears Phryne's laugh, throaty and sensual, and he realises that this is his chance.

Groping toward the sound of her laughter, he feels his heart speed up, his pulse begin to race. Here, in the darkness, everything seems easy and straightforward, and when his searching hands find her soft, warm body, Phryne melts into his embrace without the slightest hesitation.

"Phryne." Her name is all he's capable of saying, those two syllables he'd whispered to himself every night, while she was gone, like a prayer or a mantra, as if saying her name could bring her back.

"Jack. Oh, yes." And her lips are on his, eager and sweet, and she's moaning softly into his mouth, and it's so good, so overwhelming that he feels the earth sway beneath his feet.

The kiss doesn't nearly last long enough, though, and when he pauses for breath, he immediately starts second-guessing himself. What was he thinking, just grabbing her like that, like a caveman, with no refinement or subtlety? Surely Chung wouldn't have done that. None of her other lovers would ever be so crude.

Yet, Phryne is not complaining, not at all. She's still in his arms, and her scent fills the air around him, going straight to his groin. He ought to pull back, really, before she notices his predicament, but instead, he pulls her closer, grinds into her, unable to stop himself because she feels so incredibly good.

And Phryne _moans_ , rubbing herself against him without the slightest bit of shame, so warm, so soft, even through her clothes. Jack wants those clothes _gone_ , right now, wants her naked in his arms, with an urgency that makes his cheeks heat up even as he fumbles with the fastenings of her dress. He hates himself for that blush, for his inability to be the suave, worldly lover she expects, the kind she's used to. On any other night, he'd lose his nerve now and back off, retreat behind a sarcastic remark or a superficial platitude. But tonight, the storm and the darkness are making him bold. Tonight, she can't see him blush, and maybe she'll put his fumbling down to the lack of proper lighting.

Finally, the hooks come undone, and there's bare skin under his hands, bare skin against his chest, because somehow, she's unbuttoned his shirt, and she feels incredible, smooth and silky and sweet. His hands roam her body even as he claims her mouth in another searing kiss. And then he's cupping a perfect breast, her nipple hard and taut against his palm, and nothing has ever felt so _right_.

Jack lowers his head and his mouth locks around that sweet bud, and it's _glorious_. Phryne pulls him closer, urges him on, in a feverish voice he barely recognises. And he obliges gladly, sucking hard, letting her feel the barest hint of teeth, then lapping gently at her sensitive skin, teasing her with the promise of more.

"Jack, _please_." It's almost a whimper. "Yes. More."

Her words kill the last of his restraint. The silk of her panties tears in his grip, and he flinches, but Phryne clearly doesn't care. And he can't either, because now he can _feel_ her, all of her, hot and slick, and his fingers slide deep inside her. Phryne cries out, a wordless cry, and then she turns her head and bites down hard on his shoulder. It hurts, but he's never welcomed pain more than this.

Groaning inarticulately, he hitches one of her legs up to his waist. Phryne isn't idle either. His pants and underwear are swiftly dealt with, and now there's nothing between them any more, nothing to stop him from what he's wanted for so long.

"Jack, oh Jack." Phryne sounds _wrecked,_ and she's all wet and open, for him, and it would take a saint to resist her. And while Jack tries to be a good man, he's certainly no saint.

He aligns himself, and with a rough groan, he pushes himself inside her to the hilt.

Phryne cries out again, clenching around him so hard that it nearly makes him come undone. But he's not that inexperienced, even if he's out of practice. Taking one, two deep breaths, he manages to regain some sort of control. Holding Phryne tight, he begins to move. And when he does, it is… There are no words for it. She feels so good, and they are so close, and his body is screaming at him to go faster, harder, but he holds back, because this is _Phryne_ and he needs to make sure this is as good for her as it is for him.

Until she wraps her arms around his neck and whispers something in his ear that is both so filthy and so hot that he simply blanks out. It all becomes a blur at this point, with conscious thought rapidly dissolving into raw need. Dimly, he's aware that he's pounding into her, that her nails are digging deep into his arms, bound to leave marks, but she's still talking, still urging him on in that sinful, sinful voice of hers. And he loses himself, carried away on a wave of pleasure so intense it _hurts_ , until finally, _finally_ , they both cry out, and the world goes away.

* * *

Some tiny part of Phryne's mind, the practical, pragmatic side of her, is still trying to remember where Mr Butler keeps the candles. _Dot would know._ But Dot is with Hugh, in their cozy little house across town, and Mr Butler has taken the evening off to attend some kind of dinner. She's all alone with Jack, and that is a good thing, really, considering the unexpected turn this evening has taken.

Unexpected, but by no means unwelcome. Finally, _finally_ , that thrice-damned iron control of his has broken, finally he's let her see the passion underneath. Well, not _see_ exactly, because it's too dark for that, but she has certainly _felt_ it. Her whole body is tingling from the aftershocks of her climax, and when he slides out of her, she feels empty and bereft without him.

She has been waiting for this for so long, waiting for Jack to initiate any kind of intimacy, to confirm that their kiss at the airfield wasn't just a fluke, brought about by fear and worry. Phryne doesn't even mind that he hasn't come after her, because this is Jack and his duty comes first, and she wouldn't want him any other way. But to return to Melbourne, only to find the old distance back in place, as maddening as before…

None of this matters now. Now he's here, with her, and he's kissing her again, his arm firm and sure around her waist, holding her tight, his free hand caressing her body with a careless abandon that is as new as it is exciting. His shirt has come halfway off, and his bare chest feels good under her hands, firm and taut. A gust of cold wind from the open window makes her shiver, though, and she clings to him for warmth.

"Phryne." There's a shade of the old insecurity in his tone. "You're cold. Should we-"

She feels a bout of hysterical laughter rise in her throat and just barely manages to stifle it. "Don't you dare let go of me, Jack Robinson. Don't you dare!"

To her surprise, he chuckles softly. "I won't. But maybe we should take this to your bedroom? If you can find the way in the dark?"

There's something new in his voice, a rich, deep confidence that's incredibly attractive, and it makes her mind go to interesting places. "Take my hand."

She manages to guide them there, bumping into a chair or two in the way, but then they're in her room, on her bed, and their remaining clothes come off. It's still pitch dark, which is a pity, because Phryne knows Jack is well worth looking at. But at least now she can touch him properly, run her hands all over his body, claim him as her own. When her fingers brush against his cock, he makes a small, stifled noise, burying his face between her breasts. Of course it's too soon for another round of lovemaking, but Phryne can't resist. She needs to feel him, to touch him, and she needs the heat of his touch on her own skin. And she needs _more_. She's insatiable tonight, now that she finally has him here, in her bed.

Luckily, there are other ways of giving her what she needs. And Jack knows what she wants, without being told. Already, his hand is between her legs again, gently caressing her. And dear God, he's _good_ at this, now that he's stopped overthinking things. Jack is experienced enough to know what he's doing, and yet not too jaded to appreciate her, and that's a lovely combination. Closing her eyes, Phryne abandons himself to his touch, relishing every moment, and when she comes again, it's perfect, sweet and unhurried, her whole body awash with pleasure. She relaxes against him with a happy sigh, and before she knows it, she's asleep.

When Phryne wakes up, the electricity is back, and the light in the corridor has come on again, dimly illuminating the bedroom through the half-open door. Jack is behind her, naked and warm, his hand resting on her belly. Experimentally, she rolls her hips against him, and yes, he's hard again, hard and eager and she can't wait to get her hands on him. Twisting in his arms, she sinks into his embrace, moaning when he kisses her deeply. Her hands tangle briefly in his chest hair before she slides them lower down, going straight for the kill. The moment her fingers close around his length, Jack groans, deep in his throat, and the sound is music to her ears.

But just touching him isn't enough. Struck by the sudden need to taste him, she pushes him back and lets her mouth wander down his body, teasing him with little bites and kisses all the way down. When he realizes where she's headed, he goes still for a moment, and when her lips close around him, he shivers all over. Phryne glances up at him, but his eyes are firmly pressed shut. Has anyone ever done this for him, she wonders idly, while she twirls her tongue around him, drawing yet another one of those delectable sounds from him? Somehow, she can't imagine Rosie being enthusiastic about the idea, and Jack is not the type to hook up with a woman just for sex. But he definitely likes what she's doing here, judging from his reaction, his hand clenching in her hair, his moans getting louder and louder, as she works him patiently with lips and tongue and teeth. When he finally opens his eyes, she meets his gaze without a trace of shame, and when his eyes widen, she responds with a cheery wink.

" _Phryne_!" His head drops back on the pillow with an audible _thump_ , and she feels him pulse against her tongue, tastes him, salty and delicious, and she can't resist sucking just that tiny bit harder.

With a long-drawn out moan, he comes in her mouth, too overcome to even try to pull back, his whole body twitching in ecstasy as he whispers her name, over and over again.

She allows him a few minutes to come down from it, but she's so worked up by now that she can't wait, so when he opens his eyes again, she firmly pushes his head down. Jack makes a small, surprised noise, but then she feels his mouth on her, and yes, this is exactly what she needs.

He's hesitant at first, carefully exploring her folds with his tongue, but when she moans to let him know he's doing it right, he gets bolder. A firm swipe of his tongue across her sweet spot makes her whine with pleasure, another makes her hips fly off the sheets. And now he's _really_ tasting her, lapping up her arousal with single-minded focus, his tongue thrusting gently inside her, and Phryne simply can't get enough of him. Next time-

But just then, he changes tack again, and now he's _suckling_ , exactly where she needs it most, and one of his fingers slides deep inside her, and she comes again, comes so hard this time that she literally sees stars.

When he pulls back, he looks disheveled, his hair all mussed up, his lips bruised from all the kissing, and his eyes, oh God, his eyes… "I…" Jack swallows hard. "I love you, Phryne. So very much."

It's Phryne's turn to swallow. Because this is the moment she's been dreading for so long. This is why she's denied herself the pleasure of his embrace over and over, seeking comfort or thrills in the arms of others. Guido, Lyle, Erik… they were all just vain attempts to prove to herself that she didn't need Jack, didn't really care. But she does. She cares more than she can afford to, more than she's comfortable with, and maybe it's time to admit that. She's never been a coward, after all.

So she meets his eyes with a clear gaze. "I love you, too, Jack Robinson. I really do."

* * *

 _This was written for the fourth Phryne Ficathon, in response to an awesome prompt from the lovely Inzannatea, and I had tons of fun writing it. As per usual, hugs and thanks to the best beta ever, my wonderful friend suilven._


End file.
